


Beastly

by Sebastian_the_Mercat



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bonding, Child Abuse, Depression, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Healing, Healthy Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, Manipulative Grindelwald, Past Child Abuse, Past Gellert Grindelwald/Credence Barebone, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Self-Harm, Slow Build, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-02 06:41:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8654731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sebastian_the_Mercat/pseuds/Sebastian_the_Mercat
Summary: After Credence approaches Newt, begging for Newt to teach him magic, the two find themselves inexplicably bound together...for better or for worse.





	1. Chapter 1

It all started with a knock at his door. 

Newt looked up from his writing, blinking a couple times. At first, he believed that he had imagined the sound – the boat he was currently taking from the United States back to England was rather old and rickety, after all. As Muggle transportation went, it was not exactly of the highest quality, so it was quite possible that the noise had merely been caused by the boat itself. Newt merely shrugged, turning back to the desk that had been supplied with his room, intent on continuing to make notes on the events that had transpired in New York. After all, it had been one hell of a few days. As if to affirm his thoughts, the bound suitcase sitting at his feet made a slight thumping sound, causing him to roll his eyes.

However, there came another knock, this time louder. Newt set his quill aside, climbing to his feet silently. He flicked his wand a couple times, making sure his clothing and tea set was abiding by the proper laws of gravity, before he slipped the wand up his sleeve. He strode over to the door, opening it with the intent to send the unsuspecting Muggle away as quick as possible, so he could get back to his work.

He froze when he saw the young man on the other side of the door. Newt felt his eyes widen and his jaw drop as a quiet gasp was wrenched from his suddenly too-dry throat. He wasn’t one to display an overwhelming amount of emotion – however, in that moment, Newt had to grip the doorframe in order to keep himself from collapsing in shock.

Credence Barebone stood before him, his head bowed, looking as grim as ever. He didn’t appear to even register that Newt had opened the door, merely continuing to stand there stiffly, swaying slightly on his feet. Now that Newt had gotten over the shock and was really looking at the boy, he noticed his grey pallor, the shaking that seemed to wracking Credence’s form. He truly looked sickly – but then again, Newt imagined no one would look in tip top shape if they had just found themselves brought back from the dead.

Right. The boy was supposed to be dead – Newt had seen him die, had seen the way his magic had seemed to slither away…ah, that must have been it, then. Still, there were so many questions to be asked, so much information to be excavated from this boy’s experience.

Credence shifted slightly, letting out a weak sounding cough, subsequently breaking Newt out of his musings. He blinked, before silently admonishing himself for allowing his wandering thoughts to sweep him away. He needed to act now and ask questions later, as it seemed like the boy was about to collapse.

Newt opened his mouth to say something, perhaps to invite the boy in, but Credence quiet, subdued voice broke the silence first.

“A-are you…N-Newt?” 

Newt once again blinked in shock, before remembering that Tina had spoken his name to the boy when she was trying to calm him down. “Yes, yes I am. Newt Scamander, at your service.”

Credence didn’t say anything further, didn’t even move. He merely stood there as he had before, as though he had not spoken.

Newt cleared his throat awkwardly. “And you’re Credence Barebone…correct?”

At the sound of his name, the boy looked up, meeting Newt’s eyes for the first time since he had arrived at his door. Newt had to swallow quickly, the pain and fear swimming in those black eyes overwhelming him – no one, especially no one as young as Credence was, should ever have eyes like that.

Seemingly sensing Newt’s discomfort, Credence dropped his gaze back to his worn black shoes, his voice coming out strangely raw as he said, “I…I’m sorry for just…for being here and…b-but…I have nowhere else to go…”

Newt tilted his head slightly, as the boy’s voice had trailed off. His swaying had also become more pronounced.

“Why don’t you come inside and sit down…you are looking a bit peakish-“

“The woman…she said you’d help me…” 

Newt paused. “Yes. I will help you, if you allow me to.”

Credence raised his head slightly, though his eyes remained averted, his shaking hands clenched into bony fists at his sides. “Will you…teach me?”

“Teach you-“

“About…about m-magic. H-how to control it so I don’t…s-so I don’t hurt anyone else…” There was that agony again, the agony Newt had glimpsed in the boy’s eyes. Only this time, it seemed to emanate from his very being, his hunched shoulders to his cracking voice. Newt remembered hearing that the boy’s adopted mother and one of his adopted sisters had been killed as a result of the boy’s errant powers – that would certainly be motivation enough to desire control over his abilities. 

“I need…I-I can’t…I-“

“Credence,” Newt spoke calmly, as though he were speaking to a particularly volatile beast that had been cornered (and perhaps, in a sense, he was). “Why don’t you come in, sit down, and have a cup of tea. You look dead on your feet.”

“W-will you help me?” Credence asked – no, pleaded. Desperation, there was a fair amount of desperation there, along with that agony. A cornered beast indeed.

Newt knew he needed to placate the boy somehow, in order to be able to calm him down. The boy certainly needed calming down, as Newt wasn’t necessarily fond of the idea of having an Obscurus loose on a boat in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. On top of that, the boy appeared to be sick and getting sicker by the minute, if the sweat breaking out on his forehead was anything to go by. However, promising to help the boy to control his magical abilities, something Newt knew next to nothing about, could backfire in the long run – especially considering the trust issues the boy had most definitely already acquired through his experience with Grindelwald. Newt most definitely did not want to be a contributor to the pain in the boy’s life.

Newt felt like groaning. Why hadn’t the boy sought out Tina? Not only did he appear to trust her more, even in Obscurus form, but she was most likely far more equipped to handle everything Credence had to throw at her, both magically and emotionally, than Newt was. 

Deep down inside, Newt knew that Credence was probably desiring a fresh start, and what better place to begin that fresh start but in an entirely different country, where supposedly no one knew him nor what he had done? At the same time, the technicalities of bringing Credence (who was most likely well known across the wizarding world by that point) to England, especially in such a time of turmoil could be incredibly problematic. Focusing briefly, Newt did brief calculations in his head, nearly cursing aloud when he came to the realization that they were too far off the coast to Apparate back to New York at this point. How very Slytherin of the boy to wait several hours before confronting him (though, of course, the boy couldn’t have known a thing about the limits of Apparition). 

Credence shifted on his feet once more. Newt sighed, stepping aside as he gestured for Credence to enter the small room. “Let’s have some tea and discuss this further, alright?”

Credence was hesitant, but he nodded, slowly shuffling his way into the room. His shoulder brushed Newt’s and the younger man recoiled slightly, dipping his head in a parody of a flinch. Newt ignored the movement, quickly shutting the door and gesturing to the bed for Credence to sit down on. He removed his wand from his sleeve, discreetly casting a privacy charm on the door, lest there be any Muggles making their way down the hall that could overhear their – no doubt – sensitive conversation. Glancing at Credence, who had stiffly settled on the edge of the creaky bed, Newt waved his wand once more, the tea kettle immediately heating up and pouring two cups of the calming draught-laced brew. Credence only looked up from the ground when the cup was floating before his face, where he once again flinched, his hands curling into tight fists as his gaze once again focused on the floor. Newt raised an eyebrow, but turning around his desk chair to face the bed before he settled down on it. 

“So,” Newt asked, sipping his tea, “how are you alive?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is not necessarily plot heavy, as the focus is more on the healthy development of Newt and Credence's relationship, as well as Credence healing. This is a...very slow burn, just a warning! I have all 55 chapters planned out, but as for how often I am able to update...that depends on college and life. Regardless, I hope you enjoy and feel free to leave a review!


	2. Chapter 2

“H-how am I…alive, sir?” Credence asked, sounding baffled. His eyes darted up, his head jerking oddly as his stiff neck quirked briefly to allow that dark gaze to meet Newt’s light one, before he once again lowered his head.

Newt nodded, taking another sip of his tea, before setting the cup aside, the calming draught having sufficiently began to soothe his frayed nerves. “Yes – how are you alive?” When the boy made no move to respond, Newt continued. “After all, the last time I saw you, you had been shot an inordinate amount of times by an array of different spells and curses by a group of strong wizards, causing your very form to disintegrate into thin air. So tell me, Credence, how is it that you are still in the land of the living?”

The boy moved slowly, shifting uncomfortably on Newt’s bed. A hand shakily rose to his forehead, brushing his hair down nervously, before he managed to stutter out, “W-would you believe me if I said…that I d-don’t know?”

“Normally, no,” Newt admitted bluntly. “I may be a Hufflepuff, but I am not so ignorant of the real world that I would take just anyone’s word at face value. Human beings are, after all, some of the most vicious and conniving beasts I have ever come across, and I have dealt with goblins many a time before.” Credence once again shot him a strange look, appearing to be distinctly uncomfortable. Newt was immediately reminded of the fact that the boy had been raised as a Muggle, in America no less, and most likely had not understood a single thing he said. “However, given your unique situation and your lack of knowledge about how things work in the magical world, I will assume you are telling the truth. I have to ask, though, what do you remember?”

Credence breathed in a deep shuddering breath. Beneath his harshly cut black hair, his forehead scrunched and pain flickered briefly in his eyes. He seemed to be trying to talk, but something was holding him back, and Newt had a pretty good idea what.

“Take your time, and drink your tea,” Newt advised, trying to sound soothing, though he wasn’t necessarily sure how well he succeeded in that endeavor, given the way Credence tensed at his words. He needed to remind himself to think of Credence like a cornered beast rather than the human he was, for only then would he be able to sound as gentle and reassuring as Credence no doubt needed him to be. “It won’t bite. It’s just plain black tea, with a bit of a calming draught mixed in, so it will have a little bit of a cherry twinge to it, but I think it adds to the taste rather than subtracting from it. I do have some sugar in one of my pockets I think, but no cream – I tried carrying a bit of cream around in a potions vial before, but it ended up breaking and making an awful mess.”

Newt forced himself to stop rambling and to take another sip of his own tea. His leg stopped its incessant bouncing, and he was able to breathe deeply once more – it had been an unfortunate side effect of the brief torture inflicted upon him by Grindelwald that Newt’s nervous habits had intensified slightly over the past few days. He watched over the rim of his teacup as Credence slowly lifted his bony hands into the air, grasping the tea cup. The spell holding it in the air released, allowing it to settle into the boy’s shaky hands. He took a rather small sip, blinking in apparent shock at the taste, before his body returned to its previous posture, tea cup still settled in his hands. Newt held back a sigh of frustration at knowing the boy most likely had not drank enough of the tea-potion combination to have any effect on his frazzled state, deciding to let the young man go at his own pace.

“Th-thank you, sir…for the tea,” Credence said, startling Newt out of his musings. The boy sounded almost apologetic, in his gratefulness. Newt waved his hand.

“Think nothing of it. I had already began brewing it, before you knocked at my door.”

Credence flinched, the tea sloshing slightly against the sides of the cup. Apparently that had been the wrong thing to say.

“I…I apologize sir. I did not mean to be interrupting you…”

Newt once again waved his hand. “Nonsense, you needn’t have hesitated.” Newt paused, eyeing him closely. “I am curious, how you came about finding me.”

Credence swallowed convulsively, taking another, larger drink of his tea. His shoulders appeared to relax slightly, which was at least an improvement. “I…I followed you…onto this boat, and then later…to this room…”

Newt looked vaguely surprised. “Were you incorporeal at the time? I never saw you.”

“I was…as I appear now…” Credence paused, before adding, “I can…blend in sometimes, if I want to.”

Newt raised an eyebrow, eying everything from the boy’s dreadful haircut to his subdued posture to his Puritan-esque fashion. Somehow, he doubted ‘blending in’ was an easy feat for the boy. Regardless, Newt once again asked, “What do you remember, of the battle in the subway and your apparent transformation back into human form?”

“N-not much…” Credence admitted. He sounded almost ashamed of that fact, every inflection of those two words dripping with an unspoken apology. As expected, the spoken apology soon followed. “I’m sorry sir.”

Newt almost regretted asking. “That’s alright. In spite of my initial shock upon finding you outside my door, I had already developed a theory you had lived, in spite of what happened. You are, after all, an anomaly already, given the fact that you have survived past the age of ten…it would make sense that your power, having saved you from a premature death, would save you once more in this situation.” Newt turned from Credence, riffling through the stacks of papers on his desk, before he came across the very minimalist outline he had created on information regarding Obscurial beings. Though he currently had no intention on including the section in his manuscript, Newt wanted to have some notes on file, lest (Merlin forbid) another situation arise where such information would be needed. Although Credence defied the majority of the tentative rules Newt had developed in regards to how Obscurial beings lived and died, any information, however theoretical, he could glean from the boy could possibly come in handy. 

“Typically, when an Obscurus bursts forth from the host’s body with such ferocity that yours had, it immediately destroys the host. However, with you, it acted more as a form of protection, protecting your body from harm.” Newt paused, before adding, “It acted out when you felt threatened, such as in the case when Grindelwald approached you, and later when the Aurors attacked, leading me to believe that you were at least semi-conscious of what was going on, as you were able to make those judgements, though the amount of control you truly possessed appeared to be minimal…wait, didn’t you say you remembered Tina speaking to you?” Newt turned back to Credence, curious, his quill poised above the paper.

Credence was actually looking at him straight on, though the expression on his face was no less heart wrenching than his previous, agonized posture. Newt slowly returned his quill to its inkwell, before saying, “I’m sorry. I tend to get carried away on certain subjects and I start thinking aloud and rambling all over the place. It’s a real problem, and I am truly trying to work on it, I really am, but I don’t talk to a lot of people so I don’t tend to notice when I just get going on a tangent. I talk a lot to my beasts you see, and none of them appear to care, and some are even comforted a bit if I just keep talking…like…I’m doing right now…” Newt chuckled, awkwardly running a hand through his tangled, windswept hair. “People tend to find me annoying,” he added, trying to lighten the mood.

It didn’t work, as Credence merely raised the teacup to his lips once more, his eyes not meeting Newt’s. In an effort to not overwhelm the poor boy further than he already had, Newt refrained from speaking, allowing the boy to slowly process everything Newt had said.

Eventually, the empty teacup was lowered to rest in Credence’s lap. Though the boy still looked rather ill, which was concerning, he appeared to be far less anxiety-ridden than when they had begun the conversation. After a moment’s pause, Credence slowly asked, “This…this thing inside me… this m-magic…can it…can I truly learn to control it?”

Credence’s tone would have almost been considered suspicious, if it weren’t for the layers of fear and desperation surrounding the plea-like question. To Newt, it sounded almost like the boy had been promised control over his powers before, only to have that promise broken and the opportunity snatched from him. Recalling the way Grindelwald had talked to the boy in the subway, Newt had a sinking feeling that such an occurrence was not too far-fetched. 

After allowing a long pause during which Credence’s hands began quivering once more, Newt finally forced himself to say, “It has never been done before, though as I said earlier, you are an incredibly unique case. With enough drive and motivation in a controlled environment with a good enough teacher, I believe control over your powers is entirely possible.”

Credence shifted forward slightly on the bed, his eyes timid as they met Newt’s. “Would you…would you be willing to be my teacher, sir?”

Newt hid a wince. Ah yes, they had managed to weave back around to the boy’s initial proposition, for Newt to teach him magic. Newt pointedly avoided looking at the boy as he said, “Credence, I don’t believe that I am the best man for the job…”

“B-but sir-“

“Please, call me Newt,” Newt interrupted, having been called ‘sir’ one too many times.

Credence swallowed hard. “N-New…M-Mr. Scamander, I…I know it is a lot to ask…and I…I’d understand if you said no…b-but please…please, I’m begging you to reconsider…”

If anyone else would have spoken to him like that, Newt would have immediately turned them away, feeling their words to be along the lines of guilt-tripping. Credence, however, sounded the exact opposite of manipulative; the boy appeared to truly believe he understood the amount of burden educating him would put on Newt, that he would completely understand and accept Newt’s refusal to teach him. In spite of that, the boy was still trying, still begging and pleading with Newt to reconsider, even though he appeared to believe that it was all in vain. 

Newt did understand where the boy was coming from. After all, he was alone in the world, powerful but incredibly vulnerable, having just discovered a part of himself that he had been forced into hating and suppressing his entire life. The boy was scared and was drowning in a toxic combination of trauma and raw power…he was looking for something familiar to latch onto, and Newt just happened to fit the bill. Though Newt doubted he had gone through the amount of pain Credence had in his short life, he knew what it was like to be scared and alone and to desire some form of comfort or security, however small.

It would be incredibly difficult, though. Newt hadn’t finished school, let alone received his teaching license – he had no clue how to teach anything, aside from Magizoology and perhaps some basic Potions skills. On top of that, he still had a lot of work to do on his book, having at least three more sections he hadn’t even begun his research on yet. Additionally, there was the little fact that the Wizarding World was currently in the middle of the worst war since the Middle Ages, and the risk of becoming involved with a powerful young wizard that had already drawn the attention of Gellert Grindelwald himself seemed like a spectacularly bad decision. 

Newt groaned slightly, his leg bouncing as he rubbed his forehead. After a moment, he forced out, “I will…think about it. I am not completely against teaching you, but I believe there are other better options available for you and your…unique, situation. When we reach England in a week’s time, I will take you to see one of the professors at my Alma Mater, and he will be able to advise you better on your future than I would be able to.”

Credence appeared unsure, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip and his hands clenching around the teacup, but after a moment, he gave a small nod.

“Great!” Newt clapped his hands, causing Credence to jolt. “I will call him over the Floo in my suitcase tonight to see when he’s free for a meeting. In the meantime, you should rest – it appears as though recent events have not been kind to your health.”

Credence nodded slightly, standing as soon as Newt did. Newt relieved him of his teacup, saying, “I don’t suppose you packed any nightclothes? Ah, no bother, I can transfigure your clothing for the night. Transfigured clothes aren’t necessarily the most comfortable to sleep in, but I assume you’d rather sleep in your own clothes rather than mine, especially considering the fact I have been putting off doing my laundry for an excessive amount of time. No worries, I will handle that tomorrow, and then you won’t have to sleep in your day clothes. I assume my clothing will fit you, at least length-wise, though certain things may be a little loose, as you are rather thin. When we get to London, we will be sure to stop at Madam Malkin’s shop in Diagon Alley to get you fitted with a proper set of robes, as London can be bitterly cold this time of year, and I will not have you catching your death after having just escaped it.”

Newt slipped his wand out of his sleeve, before grabbing ahold of Credence’s wrist without thinking. The boy flinched from his touch, jerking away from Newt, and lowering his head. Newt immediately forced his voice to become softer, slower, as he asked, “Will you please raise your arms out to the side a bit?”

Credence did as was asked, seemingly embarrassed by his display, if the blush dancing across his prominent cheekbones was anything to go off of. Newt flicked his wand a couple times, murmuring under his breath. Credence’s jacket and vest vanished, his white dress shirt loosening and lengthening until it reached his calves. The scuffed black dress shoes the boy wore transformed as well into a pair of house slippers, the boy’s socks vanishing as well. Newt nodded his head, hiding his smile at the boy’s wide awestruck eyes as he touched the nightshirt reverently. “I will let you remove your slacks at your discretion, as I will be going into my suitcase shortly. You may sleep in the bed, as I have arrangements of my own.”

Newt turned from Credence, who had not moved an inch since Newt had transfigured his clothing, and laid his suitcase on the floor, carefully undoing the bindings. He paused, however, glancing over his shoulder. Credence had, after all, had a rather rough few days, and judging by his sickly appearance in combination with the bags under his eyes, it was obvious the boy’s sleep had been spotty at best. Newt opened his suitcase, reaching in and feeling around until he found the vial he was looking for on one of the shelves. Standing, he turned back to Credence, holding out the potion.

“This is Dreamless Sleep. It is highly addictive and can lead to major health issues if administered too often…but when used sparingly, it can work wonders for those afflicted with nightmares.” Newt hesitated, before setting the vial in Credence’s hand. “Take a sip for tonight. You need your rest.”

He turned from Credence, now feeling more at ease with escaping into his suitcase for the night. He was waist deep when heard Credence softly say, “Th-thank you, Mr. Scamander.”

Newt met the boy’s wide grateful eyes briefly, before descending the rest of the way into the suitcase, reminding the boy, “Call me Newt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had decided I would add the second chapter of this fic as soon as I got 100 kudos - and wow, that happened so quickly! I am so grateful for all the support this fic has already received through bookmarks, kudos, and comments...it all means the world to me! Thank you so much for reading, and please leave a comment on the chapter if you so desire! (As a quick little aside: I really enjoyed writing Newt as an awkward, rambling person in this chapter - he is too precious)!


	3. Chapter 3

Newt had been surprised the next morning to have climbed out of his suitcase only to find Credence still sleeping. That surprise quickly turned to concern, however, as the boy continued to sleep through the majority of the day, even through the rather violent rocking of the boat and, subsequently, the noise of Newt stumbling around and dropping things. If it hadn’t been for the gentle rise and fall of his chest, Newt would have feared for the worst – and wouldn’t that have been just the boy’s luck, for him to have survived so much only to succumb to death in his sleep.

Though he tried to distract himself with working on his manuscript and tending to his beasts, Newt found himself constantly thinking about Credence’s extended slumber and the possible causes of it.

The boy could have accidentally overdosed on the Dreamless Sleep potion… Newt was able to admit to himself that telling the boy to take ‘a sip’ of the potion was probably not the best advice, given the potion’s potency. Not remaining there with the boy as he took the potion probably had not been the best decision either. There was also the possibility that the boy had purposely overdosed on the potion…but that was an option that was frankly too upsetting for Newt to consider. Besides, a quick glance at the potion sitting on the nightstand beside the bed affirmed that the boy had indeed followed Newt’s (vague) advice and had only drank a small bit. Although…there was also the possibility that Newt had brewed the potion too strong in the first place. Though he had been better in Potions at Hogwarts, than say, Transfiguration or Charms, he still hadn’t exactly been spectacular when it came to establishing the proper potency for his potions. And for someone like Credence, who had never taken a potion before in his life, to take one of Newt’s ridiculously strong brews into his system…the effects could be catastrophic.

The possibility that he had given Credence the wrong potion was also a possibility. Newt’s system of organization was…less than stellar. Keeping track of where everything was located in his suitcase wasn’t necessarily a priority, until the things he was trying to locate were one of his creatures. He had only glanced briefly at the vial before handing it over to Credence, not even having bothered to look at the label (as it was probably wrong, anyway). It was entirely possible that Newt had given Credence a Graphorn Tranquilizer potion.

There could have been nothing wrong with the potion whatsoever, too. It could have been a perfectly normal Dreamless Sleep potion of the normal potency, that Credence took the proper, healthy amount of. The boy had appeared to have been rather ill the night before, and it was quite common for magical beings to go into a brief form of hibernation in order for the magic to combat whatever was ailing them. 

Credence could have been just very, very tired, as well. Given the amount of magical energy he had expended in the last few days, Newt now figured he would have honestly been surprised if the boy would have been awake when he emerged from his suitcase. After all, having magic consume your being repeatedly, nearly dying at the hands of several highly powerful Aurors, and having to completely reform your body…well, it probably took its toll on a person. Perhaps Credence had not even been ill, but simply so thoroughly exhausted and drained that he had appeared sick.

It also could have been a combination of some, if not all, of those theories. The boy had been through a lot, to say the least. Though he did not know a lot about the boy’s home life, nor his interactions with Grindelwald, Newt knew enough and could infer several things as well. Credence had suffered severe trauma, and perhaps this rest was how he was dealing with it. After all, exhaustion and illness weren’t things that occurred just in the physical realm.

The good thing about Credence resting, was that it gave Newt time to think over the conversation they had had the previous night, though this also could have been considered bad as well – Newt would have preferred to ignore the situation altogether, until it disappeared (worrying about such things, after all, only lead to him suffering twice). He knew this was a rather delicate situation, however, and avoiding it wasn’t necessarily an option, especially given the fact that there was another person involved. 

Thinking about his current predicament, however, only served to confuse Newt further.

On one hand, he was a loner – he didn’t fit in with society, nor was he willing to conform to fit said society’s rules and expectations. If Credence was looking for someone to help integrate him into the magical world and, as consequence, magical society, Newt wasn’t probably the best man for the job. Additionally, he was busy – horrendously so, given the fact that he had countless creatures to take care of, on top of writing his manuscript and occasionally having to go on sudden emergency trips in order to rescue hurt beasts from dreadful situations. Those things alone should be reason enough for Newt to have immediately turned the boy away, let alone the fact that the boy was asking Newt to teach him magic. How was Newt supposed to teach the boy magic, when Newt wasn’t necessarily the best at magic to begin with?! The boy needed someone who was an upstanding citizen in the wizarding world, someone who was an exceptional teacher, who was stable and could spend ample time with Credence, someone who was not Newt.

But on the other hand…

The boy had chosen him. Him, Newt Scamander, of all people. Perhaps Credence didn’t know what he was getting himself into by turning to Newt for guidance…but the fact remained that the boy trusted him, that he had reacted when Grindelwald had attacked Newt, trying to protect him. For whatever reason, Credence had latched onto him, and Newt had to acknowledge that and take that into account when he was making his decision. 

Setting his notes aside with a sigh, Newt concluded he would not be getting any work done with his thoughts swirling as they were. He turned from the desk to look at Credence resting peacefully on the bed. Seeing him with his hair ruffled, his features relaxed, scarred hands resting loosely near his head…Newt felt very suddenly pained. Though he had referred to the young man as a boy in his head, he hadn’t truly considered the boy’s age. Looking at him now, it was clear he was perhaps only eighteen or nineteen. Too young to have experienced all that he had, too young to have such sorrowful eyes…

Sorrowful eyes that had begun to flutter open, dark depths still glazed with sleep. Newt had to restrain himself from immediately jumping from the desk in relief. Instead, he simply said, “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Credence slowly sat up, blinking slowly, looking completely out of it. However, after a few moments, he appeared to remember where he was and why he was there, for a heavy weight seemed to settle over his features. Dipping his head low, he ran a shaky hand through his hair, trying to flatten it as he stuttered out, “I’m sorry, Mr. Scamander, sir.”

Newt’s eyebrows shot up. “You may call me Newt, remember? But more importantly, whatever are you sorry for?”

Credence appeared to be struggling with a response to that question, having most likely simply apologized on impulse. After several moments, he finally managed to say, “F-for…for sleeping as long as I did. I’m sorry if it was an inconvenience for you.”

Newt immediately waved a hand, saying, “Nonsense, you needed your rest! With everything you have gone through the past few days, especially in regards to how much magic you have used, you needed to be able to recover properly. I assume you haven’t gotten much sleep as of late anyway, have you?” Credence’s head twitched in what could have been considered an affirmation of Newt’s question. “See? Thinking about it that way, it makes sense that you’ve slept nearly eighteen hours! Besides, you were hardly an inconvenience to me, curled up on the bed asleep! If anything was an inconvenience, it was the bloody Atlantic Ocean, making it impossible for me to take clean notes. Just look at my hands, they’re more stained than a Muggleborn first year’s!”

Credence shifted on the bed, pulling the covers more securely over himself, only briefly glancing up to eye the offending digits. In that brief glance, Newt caught something on Credence’s face he hadn’t expected to see: A blush.

Ah, Newt could have smacked himself upside the head. Credence was still only dressed in the transfigured nightshirt, no wonder he had hardly moved from his position on the bed. Newt quickly stood up, gesturing to a small stack of clothes sitting on the nightstand. “I will step out of the room so that you may change, as I doubt you would want to be sitting around in this drafty room in nothing but a thin nightshirt. That stack there is my clothing, but you may where them until we buy you some clothes of your own in London.” Cutting himself off before he could ramble any further, he stepped out into the hall to allow the boy to change.

Credence didn’t take long, and hesitantly opened the door to allow Newt back in. Eying the young man now standing awkwardly in the middle of the floor, Newt had to admit that he didn’t look half bad in Newt’s light blue sweater and loose grey slacks…though the light colors didn’t truly do much to lighten the feeling of darkness and oppression that seemed to surround the boy. Perhaps he would try to convince Credence to wear one of Newt’s old Hufflepuff sweaters the next day – after all, what color is better at making people feel better than yellow?

Continuing to eye Credence, Newt doubted it would take much convincing…but at the same time, he knew he shouldn’t be forcing him into wearing (or doing, for that matter) things he was uncomfortable with, especially so soon after everything that had happened. If he tried to push the boy towards healing and happiness too soon, that could lead to detrimental consequences in regards to Credence’s mental state. Newt did not want Credence suppressing his emotions, his feelings, his very nature, however negative those things were – suppression, after all, was what got Credence into this mess in the first place. Newt would rather himself be uncomfortable than for Credence’s healing to be halted before it even began.

Newt turned from Credence when he began shuffling his feet, clearly uncomfortable under Newt’s prolonged gaze. Newt opened his mouth to suggest an activity to keep Credence busy as he got back to his work, only to find himself drawing a blank. Oh, this he had not considered – it was not as though Newt would have Credence simply sit on the bed all day, staring at the walls. Left to his inner turmoil, there was no telling what could happen – Newt certainly wouldn’t be able to get any work done then, with his mind constantly worrying over what was going through Credence’s mind.

Thinking quick, trying to come up with at least a temporary activity for both Credence and himself to engage in before he could come up with a better plan, Newt finally said, “I will…ah, get us some peanut butter and jam sandwiches from the suitcase. For a late lunch, that is. I assume you are hungry?” 

A quick jerk of Credence’s lowered head, accompanied by a subdued, “Y-yes, Mr. Scamander,” had Newt quickly climbing into his suitcase, down the wooden steps, eager to escape (however briefly) the rather stifling presence of the young man. Perhaps Newt had been wrong to have been wishing so vehemently for Credence to have woken up.

Whatever were they to do for the rest of the week?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this was a lot of Newt thinking a lot to himself (which while important, is not necessarily exciting)...but fear not, things certainly pick up next chapter! Once again, a huge thank you goes out to everyone that has bookmarked, subscribed to, commented on, and gave kudos to this story! You are all so wonderful and kind, and without your support, this fic would not be possible! So once again, thank you, and I will try to get the next chapter released as soon as soon as I possibly can! Please feel free to leave comments in the meantime, if you so desire! 
> 
> (Also, if you want to interact with me on Tumblr (as I am posting a lot about Fantastic Beasts right now) my user name is Sebastian-the-Mercat !)


	4. Chapter 4

Strangely enough, things worked out surprisingly well. Granted, it had been quite awkward, at first – Credence was very subdued in both his actions and his speech, making him a very soft-spoken person who tended towards silence. In contrast with Newt, who was excitable and exuberant, passionate but hopelessly awkward, it made for very one-sided conversations that left Credence appearing to feel very overwhelmed and Newt feeling rather dissatisfied. The younger man’s very presence was exhausting to be around in itself, due to the sheer power Credence was desperately trying to hold back, let alone those dreadful conversations…the boy just had this feel about him that seemed to primarily composed of something that could only be described as ‘pure turmoil’. For someone that did not say a lot and was not very open, it was easy to tell exactly what was going through his troubled mind.

Newt quickly learned, however, that if he left Credence alone and began working on his book or even descended into his suitcase to tend to his beasts, the boy would simply fall asleep, not waking up until prompted. Newt was grateful for this, as it meant he did not have to provide some form of entertainment to keep the boy occupied during the long ride across the ravenous sea. 

However, the amount of time Credence had spent asleep was also rather concerning. Though Newt understood that the boy was suffering from severe magical exhaustion on top of a great deal of trauma and that such things could certainly lead to a need for him to take it easy for a little while…the boy didn’t appear to be improving any. In the brief moments Credence was conscious and aware enough to say a few words to Newt, his voice sounded strained and his body shook with exertion. Newt had once again considered the possibility of an illness effecting Credence, of something that was forcing him to rest in such a way that no rest was to be had…but he could honestly think of no such ailment, and there was nothing that matched Credence’s symptoms in any of Newt’s books. 

He certainly looked ill, though. Credence was pale, paler than Newt thought possible. His skin appeared to be paper thin, strangely delicate -looking with deep blue veins stretching out like spiders just beneath the surface. His face was as painfully emaciated as the rest of his body, his cheekbones prominent and his eyes sunken into his skull. Newt did not even want to get started on the dark circles beneath Credence’s eyes, and how, after so much resting, they only appeared to be more pronounced. Newt had considered the possibility that the Obscurus was the cause of Credence’s state, that it had managed to catch him at a time when he was too weak to continue on and was slowly killing him. He had quickly shaken this line of thoughts off, as it was highly unlikely given the information he had managed to squeeze out of Credence while he was awake.

He had also chosen to ignore the idea that the Obscurus was killing Credence, as acknowledging that as a possibility was too painful for Newt to bear. 

In spite of how concerning the boy’s lack of energy was, Newt was happy that the boy hadn’t been constantly awake, a dark, ominous presence eying him in a brooding manner as he tried to get work done. Though they had spent a rather large amount of time in each other’s’ presences over the past few days, Credence had not opened up at all – he was tense and reserved, only referring to Newt in a formal way that made him feel incredibly awkward. Newt had been happy that the only times they truly interacted was when Newt woke up the boy to eat, though he was aware he was putting off the inevitable: Actually having a legitimate, serious conversation with the younger man about his future.

He was concerned for the boy, true enough, and he wanted him to be able to heal from the wounds of his past and have a bright future to look forward to…but at the same time, it was hard for him to even consider being in Credence’s presence constantly in order to teach him, considering the fact that all their interactions (albeit being short and limited) were awkward at best, excruciating at worst. Though he pitied him, understanding that Credence’s life had been less than stellar, that was about where his feelings for the boy stopped. After all, he didn’t truly know that much about the boy as a person, only vague facts about his life that, while upsetting, did little to inform Newt of anything personal in regards to Credence.

It wasn’t as though Newt hadn’t tried to talk to the boy, to get him to open up. Every time he woke the boy up to eat, Newt rambled on and on about anything he could think of, hoping something (anything) would catch the young man’s interest. In spite of Newt’s valiant attempts at discussing anything from his travels around the world to his love of jazz music, Credence remained silent, only occasionally nodding or politely agreeing with whatever Newt was saying.

Newt sighed, half-hoping that their future meeting with Albus would work out in his favor. Though he felt himself selfish for wanting himself to be relieved of Credence’s presence…Newt knew it would be for the best. Credence would get someone who was more equipped to teach him than Newt was, someone that could help him to heal both mentally and physically…and Newt would be free to continue writing his book, to continue to exist as he had for years. Alone, with his creatures.

Newt ignored the slight pang in his chest at the thought of being alone again, after having made such wonderful friends in New York; his beasts and getting his book published needed to be his priority, not things like friendship, or even helping an abused boy to learn magic. 

Glancing at said boy, curled up into a tight ball on the rickety bed pushed into the corner of the small room, Newt slowly withdrew his pocket watch from his coat and looked at the time. It was strange to think that he and Credence had been on this boat for nearly a week and that their voyage would be coming to an end in less than an hour.

Steeling himself, Newt cautiously approached the bed. He hesitated only briefly before placing a hand upon Credence’s thin shoulder, softly saying, “It’s time to get up.”

Credence flinched, of course, as he had done every time Newt did this. The movement caused Newt’s chest to ache at knowing his touch had caused the reaction, but he also knew there had been no other way to get the boy to awaken, as he had tried to simply talk to the boy before to wake him up. It had not worked, so Newt had to resort to this method. After the first time, upon seeing the injured look on Newt’s face, Credence had apologized and quietly assured Newt that it hadn’t been his fault, that it was merely a knee-jerk reaction. That did little to assuage Newt’s guilt however.

Credence sat up slowly, his body tensing as he became more awake. He stood up, his forehead creasing at the realization that he had (once again) fallen asleep in his day clothes instead of the night shirt, and they were hopelessly wrinkled.

Before the boy could open his mouth to apologize, Newt quickly said, “It’s fine, honestly. I only woke you up because we were an hour from docking, and I wanted to talk with you a bit before we made our way on land.” Credence nodded, once again sitting down on the bed as Newt settled in the desk chair across from him, just as they had sat that first night.

“I talked over the Floo with an old friend, who we will be meeting with later this week. Until then, we will be staying at a rather popular inn in the heart of the wizarding world in London. While there, we will be able to handle some of the business of getting you a wand, a few sets of robes, books to begin your education…the basics, really, everything a proper Hogwarts student should have. Of course, the decision will come down to Albus and the higher ups at Hogwarts, in determining your future, whether you will acquire tutoring through Hogwarts or through another means. You are in a rather unique situation, after all, and many witches and wizards alike would jump at the chance to help to educate someone as powerful as yourself. Personally, I’m hoping Albus will take you on, as he is a good man and a brilliant educator…you would definitely prosper under his tutelage…” Newt suddenly trailed off, his mouth pressing into a thin line upon looking at Credence for the first time since he had begun his diatribe.

Credence was tense, even worse than was usual for him – his body shook with the exertion of it, trembles racing through his frame in such a violent manner, that for the first time since they had boarded the boat, Newt was truly scared that Credence’s incontrollable power was about to take over.

Before Newt could begin rambling again in an attempt to get Credence to calm down, the young man surprised Newt by interrupting him. “W-who…who is ‘Albus’?”

Newt swallowed hard. “A-an old friend of mine. He’s a bit odd…but very kind and as I said before, brilliant…”

Credence’s hands were clenched into painful fists, bunching at the fabric of his knees, as though that were the only thing grounding him in that moment. “A-and…and you are going to…to take me to him? F-for him to…to teach me?” Newt said nothing. “I…I-I thought…”

Not able to find the strength in himself to look at Credence any longer, Newt quickly glanced away, saying, “It’s for the best. I am no teacher, and as things are right now, I am incredibly busy…I am writing this book you see and-“

“I thought…y-you said you would h-help me…” Betrayal and hurt was evident in Credence’s voice. Looking at the younger man once more, Newt felt sick to his stomach at seeing the way the boy had instinctively curled up into himself, minutely rocking back and forth as he fought down the overwhelming emotions that were apparently plaguing him. 

“I…I am trying to help you Credence! Indirectly so, but helping you all the same! Believe me, this will be for the best!” Newt tried to sound chipper, as he said this, shooting Credence a strained smile, but in his inconsolable state, Credence didn’t even seem to hear Newt, let alone see his sad attempt at reassuring him.

“You…y-you’re going to abandon me…” Credence whispered, so quiet that Newt almost didn’t hear him. However, before Newt could say anything to try and reassure the young man, Credence suddenly repeated, “You’re going to abandon me!” his voice bolder than he had ever spoken before in Newt’s presence, the sound echoing throughout the cabin.

Newt winced at the loudness, before his eyes widened. Credence, curled into a ball with his eyes squeezed shut, was starting to transform, black smoke pouring from his body and wrapping around the boy like an ominous blanket. Newt felt his throat close up with a mixture of fear and guilt, only managing to choke out, “The Obscurus…”

Credence’s eyes suddenly flickered open, focusing on Newt. No longer were they dark and shuttered, instead being milky white, practically glowing with the energy threatening to escape from Credence. However, in spite of how inhuman those eyes look, Newt could still see the emotions in those eyes: The pain, the fear, the betrayal…

Credence was still there, was still human…so there was still hope that Newt hadn’t royally screwed everything up.

“Credence,” Newt said, standing slowly, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible – Credence still flinched, the Obscurus continuing to swirl violently around his body. “Credence, I am not going to abandon you, alright? Even if I am unable to teach you, I will still be there for you! I will help you in whatever ways I can, and I will most certainly not abandon you!”

Credence looked unsure, curling further into himself, withdrawing further back into the darkness. Newt felt a plague of anxiety building up in his chest at that movement, realizing that if he did not act drastically very soon, he might lose Credence to the darkness…and there was no telling when (or if) he would ever return.

And Newt would not allow someone to be lost to that darkness ever again. 

Without further hesitation or concern for his own wellbeing, Newt lunged forward through the swirling darkness, kneeling in front of Credence. Before the boy could even shout in surprise or flinch away, Newt had grasped Credence’s head firmly but gently between his hands, firmly saying, “I will not abandon you Credence! I will make sure you are safe and cared for…I will make sure you will never be hurt again, because no one deserves that! You definitely don’t deserve that! You deserve to be happy and to feel comfortable and loved…and I will make sure you feel those things, Credence, because I. Will. Not. Abandon. You.”

At first the boy had struggled slightly to get out of his grasp, his eyes darting around wildly…but as Newt continued to talk, Credence met Newt’s eyes, seeing the absolute sincerity within those light green depths. His struggles ceased as he focused on those eyes, on the gold specks in the see of green that seemed to burn with a passionate warmth Credence was unfamiliar with. Graves’s eyes had always been so cold, after all, even when he held Credence as Newt was holding him now.

Credence felt himself beginning to calm, the roaring in his ears dulling as Newt’s words finally began to reach his ears.

“You deserve so much happiness, Credence,” Newt said desperately, his words coming out even faster than normal. “You deserve to learn magic, to be able to experience the feel of it flowing through your body naturally. It feels so wonderful, so perfect Credence… And you deserve to have proper fitting clothing! Comfortable clothing that you choose, that will keep you warm through the winter and cool through the summer. You deserve to eat as much as you want, whatever you want! Treacle tarts, pumpkin pasties, cauldron cakes…everything sweet that you’ve probably never had! You deserve to not fear for everything you say and do, that it might get you beaten…oh merlin, do you deserve to feel happy, Credence…”

Credence swallowed hard, feeling his eyes blur as the dark magic slowly dissipated around him. However, it was Newt’s last words that finally caused the last of his magic to vanish in a flash of golden light that wrapped around the both of them.

“I will not abandon you Credence, and that is a promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened. I told you this chapter was a bit more exciting! By the way, I came to the decision that I will be updating this fic regularly on Thursdays and Sundays (though I might have some bonus updates there as well). I will also give warnings if I feel I won't be able to update on the assigned days to try to help and relieve some anxiety! To stay up to date with me, it is probably best to follow me on Tumblr ( sebastian-the-mercat ) as I post there frequently with little extras, headcanons, and fanart I like! I also love interacting with you all, because you are all so sweet and wonderful! Thank you again for all the kudos, bookmarks, and comments that have already been left! Please feel free to leave a comment for this chapter as well, if you so desire! Thank you!


	5. Chapter 5

‘I will not abandon you Credence, and that is a promise.’

Newt swallowed hard, adjusting his Hufflepuff scarf for what felt like the hundredth time since Credence and he had left the room they had shared for five days, ascending to the upper deck as the boat made its way into port. Glancing at the younger man beside him, Newt had to stop himself from saying anything, lest he startle the boy into reacting in a rather…volatile manner. After everything that had transpired in New York, Newt had no doubts in his mind that he was already skating on thin ice with the Ministry, and he was truly hoping to avoid causing a scene.

Especially when said scene would be taking place on a floating death trap surrounded by Muggles.

Thinking about how close Credence had been to losing complete control had Newt shuddering in his boots. If it had not been for his quick thinking…

Newt quickly shook his head, not wanting to dwell on what had happened or what might have happened – his primary concern at the moment was getting Credence from the boat to Diagon Alley with the both of them (and London) still in one piece. Once they reached Diagon Alley, there was no telling what they would do. If Newt was one to worry (he wasn’t, or so he told himself) then he would be extremely concerned about what the near future had in store for the two of them.

Glancing at Credence again, Newt noticed that the younger man seemed oddly calm and subdued. He stood as he had before in the streets of New York as he handed out pamphlets, his head bowed and his shoulders rounded, seemingly constantly prepared to be struck. His shaking had mostly ceased, aside from the slight quivering of his clenched hands; the wild electric energy that had been bursting from him not even an hour ago seemed to have completely vanished as well, leaving this shell of a boy in its wake. While this was comforting, as it alleviated the immediate anxiety of the possibility that Credence was on the verge of losing control again, it was also concerning.

The outburst had appeared to have taken a lot out of Credence, as evidenced by the way he was swaying on his feet, his face far too pale. He also refused to meet Newt’s eyes, after he had released his firm grip on the boy’s cheeks. Once again, Newt thought about his actions with a wince, quickly looking away from the young man with a blush.

Newt was not an intimate person, at least not with humans. Touching, eye contact, saying such soul-bearing things…these were things that Newt just did not do, at least not with people he barely knew. He had simply acted on instinct, not wanting Credence to get hurt or for him to hurt others… The fact that doing those interactions had been so instinctual, well, that was something Newt wasn’t really ready to think on just yet. He had been telling the truth, though, when he said all those things – they hadn’t simply been false promises used as a tool to talk Credence back from his proverbial cliff. He had meant every word he spoke with all of his heart.

Perhaps that was why he was feeling even more awkward around the younger man than he had before – after all, when intimacy was brought into the picture, Newt became a huge ball of confusion and anxiety, which transferred over to his already awkward disposition in a rather catastrophic way.

The boat shook slightly as it was anchored to the dock, before people began filing down the ramp that was attached to it. Newt didn’t dare touch Credence as they began making their way through the crowd onto the dock, but he kept a close eye on him. As soon as the cold London air hit him, Credence shuddered, burrowing into the soft blue sweater Newt had provided him, dipping his head low in a gesture that he seemed very familiar with. Newt supposed that the boy had never been supplied with a proper wardrobe for the harsh winters of New York, wincing. As soon as they both had their feet firmly planted on the wooden dock, Newt shed his coat, flinging it around Credence’s shoulders. The boy jolted, his eyes darting up briefly to meet Newt’s before he dipped his head low once more.

“M-Mr. Scamander, this isn’t necessary-“

“I believe it is!” Newt said, trying to sound more jovial than he felt, giving the boy a too-wide smile. “London winters are terribly cold, and I brought you here wearing just a thin sweater? You need to wear a coat, otherwise you will get sick! Well, sicker…” Newt swallowed hard. He was trying very, very hard to be kind and gentle and not at all awkward – he was pretty sure that was not working. “Besides, as soon as we get to a more secluded area, I can just transfigure my vest into something more suitable, no harm done!”

Credence looked skeptical, somewhat untrusting, though Newt had a feeling this was due more to how oddly Newt was acting than his request. Credence bit his lip, his thin hand touching the deep blue velvet fabric almost reverently. Newt’s smile softened into something more natural, his eyes warm, as he managed to say, “Please, Credence? It’s okay, honestly.”

Credence hesitated only a fraction of a second, before pulling the coat on properly, saying, “Thank you Mr. Scamander,” under his breath.

Newt merely gave a nod, definitely not dwelling on how interesting Credence looked in the fine material of Newt’s coat, his thin body practically drowning in the fabric. “Right then. Come along, we have much to accomplish before the day is through.”

Newt set off at a brisk pace, Credence hurrying to keep up to him. They stopped only a couple blocks away from the docks, ducking into an alleyway, where Newt removed his wand and flicked it at himself. As promised, Newt’s vest transformed into a proper (if rather thin and misshapen) coat. He nodded in approval, before a strange blush overcame his high, freckled cheekbones. “Ah…it is probably best that we not try to fight the lunch rush – things can get very hectic in London around this point of the day. Would you mind ever so much if we apparated to Diagon Alley?”

Credence blinked slowly, something odd flashing across his face. Immediately, Newt amended his speech.

“Apparating is…well, it is a rather common form of transportation in the magical world. It is a bit disorienting, because there is the whole displaced air thing and it can make you feel a bit sick to your stomach, especially if you are doing side-along apparition, which you would be…but any who, it would be far more efficient way to travel to Diagon Alley via apparition, rather than fighting the Muggle crowds.” Credence bit his lip, once again causing Newt to exclaim, “But it is up to you of course! I would not force you into such a thing, especially considering your health being as it is…not to mention that I know this afternoon will be a bit overwhelming for you, and I don’t want you to feel too utterly uncomfortable with all of these new, strange things going on…”

Credence only seemed to bite his lip harder, in spite of Newt’s reassurances. So…the young man wasn’t scared of Newt forcing him into this…but then…why was he making such a conflicted face?

Newt didn’t have time to ponder this, as Credence suddenly said, “I think I’ve…w-well, not me…M-Mr. Graves…he might have…it felt s-strange…”

Newt winced. Graves, right – the American Auror that Grindelwald had been masquerading as for quite a while, the man whose body had been used as a tool to get simultaneously close to MACUSA and the boy that stood before him now… Newt had to file these thoughts away for later analysis, because he didn’t truly want to consider what sort of trauma Grindelwald had managed to inflict on the boy in the time they knew each other.

“As I said, it is up to you. I would not want to force you into doing anything you are uncomfortable with. It’s your decision.”

The boy became even more tense than he had already been at that statement. “B-but I don’t…d-don’t know what’s r-right…”

Ah. Once again, evidence of the horrific abuse the poor young man had suffered throughout his life. Credence was an adult, nearly twenty, and he could not make a simple yes/no decision? Oh, Newt was oh so out of his league.

He just wanted to get to Diagon Alley and get the things done that he needed to get done, before setting about preparing for his and Credence’s trip to Hogwarts. After all, Newt had only this one chance to convince Albus that he was entirely the wrong person to be training Credence and helping him to heal…and he could not blow that chance. For both of their sakes.

Shaking these thoughts away, Newt reached his hand out and setting it upon Credence’s shoulder, ignoring how he tensed beneath his grip. “I am going to apparate us, to make things go a little quicker. When we arrive at Diagon Alley, please tell me immediately if you feel you are missing any body parts.”

Credence shot him a startled look, but with a pop, they were whisked away, spinning, twisting through the air. Newt wasn’t sure if it was the apparition, or because of Newt’s already frazzled nerves from Credence’s earlier episode that the apparition seemed…rougher, than usual, but soon enough, the two of them were landing heavily on their feet in the alleyway entrance to Diagon Alley.

Newt groaned slightly, releasing Credence in order to rub his own aching head. “Sorry about that. Normally my apparitions are a little…smoother than that.”

Opening his eyes and looking at Credence, he was startled to see that the boy had collapsed onto his hands and knees and was breathing heavily. His body quivered slightly, and immediately, Newt felt remorse at having decided to go with this form of transportation. In spite of the fact that they boy hadn’t said he hadn’t wanted to apparate, Newt should have known better. In this head, this was yet another reason why he would not be a suitable guardian for the young man.

Newt quickly dropped down beside him, placing a steadying hand on Credence’s back, but the boy flinched away. Letting his hand fall to his side, Newt quietly said, “I’m sorry, Credence. I should not have apparated us when I knew you were feeling unwell, especially given the state of myself…I knew the apparition would not be a smooth one. I’m sorry.”

Credence breathed deeply for s minute longer, before he was able to sit back on his knees. In spite of his improvement, his shoulders remained hunched, his head lowered. “N-no Mr. Scamander, I-I’m fine. J-just got…a l-little dizzy i-is all…”

Newt clicked his tongue. “Regardless, I am still sorry.”

Credence once again shot him a strange look that Newt wasn’t quite sure how to interoperate, so he climbed to his feet, smoothing out his coat, before lowering a hand to help Credence up. The boy didn’t take it of course, struggling to his feet on his own, panting and shuddering the entire time. Newt held back a sigh and instead made his way to the back of the alleyway, bringing his wand up to tapping out a pattern on the bricks.

As the wall began to crumble, the building falling away, Newt felt Credence’s presence behind him, hearing him gasp when the arched entryway was fully exposed to them. Newt turned to see Credence’s wide black eyes staring at the secret street before them in absolute awe, his mouth hanging slightly agape. Newt couldn’t help but to give him a small smile. “Welcome to Diagon Alley.”

They made their way through the crowds of Diagon Alley well enough, Newt keeping a careful eye on Credence. The boy’s gaze wandered, eating up the new and wonderful sights of the wizarding world as though he were starving. There was something rather wonderful at seeing the stoic, guarded young man’s face so open with curiosity and wonder, seeing his head up and his eyes wide in apparent enjoyment. Newt watched as the young man’s gaze darted from Quality Quidditch Supplies, where a man was giving a demonstration on the newest style of broom; to Flourish and Blotts, where a group of children were pestering a scaly book with a glowing set of green eyes; to Sugarplum’s Sweets Shop, where a woman referring to herself as Bertie was advertising jelly beans in the most ludicrous flavors imaginable.

Briefly glancing away from the young man, Newt waved his wand slightly, allowing a list of floating gold words to be expelled from his wand, shimmering in the air before him. “Right. We have to make several stops in order to pick up some of your basic school supplies, such as your textbooks, a quill and some parchment, some potions ingredients…some of which I need as well, right, I should add that to the list…you need a few sets of proper robes, as well as some regular Muggle clothes, while we’re at it. Oh! Your wand! How could I have forgotten that! Yes, we definitely need to head to Olivanders Wand Shop, straight away! Hopefully he does not have any appointments scheduled…there are, of course, a few other wand shops in the area, but his is by far the best! Not to mention he is very ‘in tune’ so to speak about the nature of wands and how they relate to their masters…Credence?”

Newt looked away from his list suddenly, not having heard Credence utter a word in response. Newt’s breath caught in his throat upon seeing that Credence was no longer standing behind him.

Trying to force himself to calm down, Newt softly called, “Credence?” while quickly scanning the crowd. He couldn’t have gotten far, Newt tried to convince himself over the sound of water rushing in his ears. And besides, Credence had a rather distinct look, especially in Newt’s blue, oversized coat – it should be easy to spot him in a crowd, even one as dense as the one in Diagon Alley. “Credence?” Newt called a little louder, inconspicuously whipping his sweaty palms on his jacket.

Once again, there was no response, no sign of where Credence could have disappeared to. The sound of rushing water began getting louder, until it was more of a shrill shriek than anything. “Credence!” Newt shouted, his entire body seeming to quiver with the nervous energy. Several people nearby turned to give him a startled look, one woman even asking if Newt was ‘quite all right’. 

Newt couldn’t respond to her, couldn’t remember the proper words to say – his throat was closed up and his eyes were blurring which was not good! He needed to be able to call out Credence’s name to find him! He needed to be able to scan the crowds for him! He needed to find him, and find him now!

And suddenly, there he was, a little further down the street, looking slightly pale as his eyes focused on something unseen to Newt.

Newt was beside the young man so quick, he might have apparated (though he knew that was impossible). “C-Credence!” Newt exclaimed, trying to appear calmer than he felt. “You cannot just…wander off like that! You…you startled…me…”

Newt trailed off, at noticing the boy had yet to so much as even look at him. Turning to see what exactly Credence was staring at with such a strange look on his face, Newt slowly released a breath. “Ah…you would want to stay off that street, Credence. Knockturn Alley is home to only the darkest of wizards, the nastiest of sorts. It’s rather dangerous, and is best to keep your distance.”

Credence opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He continued to stare down the darkened street where the shadows appeared to have minds of their own, his eyes wide and his face pale. Newt suddenly swallowed hard at the expression on the young man’s face, as it wasn’t necessarily one of fear, but rather one of wary hunger. Newt set a hand on the young man’s shoulder, jolting him out of his trance. Turning his gaze briefly to Newt, the older man was saddened to see that the wonderstruck awe that had been in the boy’s eyes before had disappeared completely, leaving only fear in its place.

“I-I…It was c-calling to me…” Credence whispered, his brow furrowing, before he dropped his head. 

Newt breathed deeply, trying not to think too much about that statement. Looking closely at the boy, now, Newt noticed that Credence had paled significantly since they had first arrived in Diagon Alley, and was beginning to sweat profusely, swaying on his feet. Probably a mixture of his earlier episode on the boat, Newt’s rough apparition, and the culture shock of seeing so many new and exciting and terrifying things was doing a number on the already ill boy. 

Rubbing his still aching head, Newt said, “You know what? Shopping can wait for tomorrow. We both need our rest.” Gesturing back to the entrance to Diagon Alley, Newt said, “Come. Reservations have already been made for us at the Leaky Cauldron, courtesy of Albus.”

Briefly, Credence glanced back to the entrance to Knockturn Alley, biting his lip, before turning and slowly following Newt back through the crowded street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The update this week on Thursday may come a little late (or not at all) depending on how busy I am. It is dead week at my college this week, and I have a ton of essays to write (that I've been procrastinating on, shame on me). However, next Sunday's update will be released as scheduled! Thank you so much for your patience! I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! I can not thank all of you enough for leaving kudos/bookmarks/comments for me - they all mean so much to me, and they always make my day, so thank you! If you would like to leave a comment on this chapter, please feel free to do so. Thank you again!


	6. Chapter 6

By the time Newt and Credence arrived in their room in the Leaky Cauldron, the younger man looked on the verge of collapse. Without even asking Newt’s permission (something which truly showcased how poorly Credence was feeling), the boy collapsed onto one of the rickety beds, panting heavily. Eying the young man closely, it was obvious that whatever mysterious sickness was plaguing the young man had worsened significantly since they had arrived in London. Where the boy had been pale before, his skin had now taken on a grey tint and was covered in a concerning mixture of both sweat and goosebumps. Credence’s breathing was also rather worrisome, seeming labored. What truly concerned Newt, however, was the boy’s eyes – there was not even a hint of fear or awe, or any other emotion…simply all-encompassing tiredness.

Credence was feverish, of that Newt was sure. Regardless of that knowledge, Newt refrained from offering the boy a fever reducer or any other sort of magical healing element…after seeing how extremely the Dreamless Sleep Newt had given Credence on their first night together had effected the young man, he was incredibly hesitant to use any more magic on Credence’s already strained body.

Newt had no doubt that the boy’s poor health had at least a little to do with the events of New York and how MACUSA had practically destroyed the young man, leaving only a fragment of him unscathed. Being Obscurial alone had its strains on the host, not even looking at the possible issues that could arise from being attacked so violently in that form. It was possible that most of the boy’s magical reserves had gone into the recreation of his body and keeping himself alive, and that any further strain on his magic (including forcing his body to process things it was unfamiliar with) could be potentially dangerous to body the young man’s health as well as his magic. In fact, Newt theorized that the boy’s fever was caused by his magic trying to build itself back up again as quickly as possible.

Newt tried to ignore the niggling voice in the back of his head that reminded him of the boy’s absolute power on the boat, and the possibility that this could be something not related to Credence’s magical issues at all, and was more something having to do with the unhealthy environment he grew up in. After all, the boy was around Muggles all the time, associating with them, and from what he saw of where the boy lived in Tina’s vision, it did not seem like the most sanitary place. Newt didn’t want to think about those things, especially not the graphic image his brain had concocted of Credence’s twisted, pained body, unable to move properly, just like all those poor, sick Muggles…thinking on that, after all, would force Newt into investigating the possibility that there was something more the matter with Credence than he originally thought…and though it might have been selfish, Newt had already decided that he could only deal with so much and would not push the boy into divulging any health issues he was having, at least until the sickness was too much to ignore.*

Instead, Newt went into the restroom, drawing a bath – not cold, but cool enough that it would help to calm Credence’s fever for the time being. He set out a couple of the scratchy towels the Leaky Cauldron provided with the room, before going to retrieve the young man. He had not moved from his position on the bed, Newt’s coat splayed out around his form. Newt hesitated, before speaking.

“I...are you up for taking a bath?” Newt asked, trying to make his tone as neutral as possible – after all, he did not want to make Credence feel forced into anything, even if it were the best for his health at the time being. However, he should have known better to even ask such a thing, as Newt had discovered in the past several days that Credence wasn’t necessarily very forthcoming about his feelings or emotions or opinions…or anything really. As expected, Credence merely gave a half-shrug to Newt’s question, continuing to try and steady his breathing. 

Taking a deep, calming breath, Newt said, “It will help with your fever, to lower it, that is. I don’t want to risk overwhelming your magical core by giving you a fever reducer or any other potions at the moment, as those specific potions rely on your magical core to work properly, and given the…excitement of the past week, especially this morning, I do not think it wise to mess about in that sort of business right now. But yes, as I was saying, I drew a bath for you, and it may feel a little cool, but I’m hoping it will help with your fever for the time being-“

Credence suddenly began trying to push himself up into a sitting position, slowly but surely managing the feat. “Th-thank you M-Mr. Scamander. I will…take a bath…”

Newt smiled to hide his wince. At least the young man was beginning to learn that Newt would ramble on for days, unless he was interrupted. He quickly moved to help the boy, but Credence ignored his outstretched hands, climbing to his feet on his own, before shuffling to the bathroom. Newt followed hesitantly, suddenly feeling very shy and nervous – these emotions appeared to be mirrored by Credence who stood awkwardly in the middle of the bathroom, shifting on his feet as his hands twitched nervously at his side.

Figuring it was best to just get the awkwardness out in the open, Newt questioned, “Will you…need help in undressing?”

Credence’s face turned bright red, his stutter coming out more pronounced than before. “N-n-no, sir…I can…I-I can manage it…”

Newt cleared his throat, looking away from the boy. “A-ah, right. I will…leave you to it, then. If you begin to feel under the weather, please don’t hesitate to shout for me. I will just be in the other room.”

After he closed the door, Newt remained near it for a couple minutes, listening to the sound of Credence slowly shedding his clothing, before the telltale splashes of him getting into the tub sounded. Satisfied that Credence was safely in the tub and currently not in danger of falling over, Newt went to his suitcase, laying it on one of the beds, opening it a crack to peek inside. As he expected, Dougal was right at the entrance, staring up at Newt with wide, incredibly wise eyes, his furry hands latched onto the ladder. 

“Dougal,” Newt warned, “I know you had a fun time in New York, romping about, but I’m in a rather delicate situation at the moment. We will have to wait until Credence is situated at Hogwarts, before I let you out for play time anytime soon.”

The demiguise’s eyes glimmered as he tilted his head slightly, seemingly understanding Newt. However, he did not move. Likewise, Newt saw his niffler nuzzling about at the bottom of the ladder, its black eyes glittering curiously as it stared upwards.

“Now now, what is going on with all of you? Ever since New York, you have all been acting up, hanging about right near the entrance to the suitcase. You all know better than that!” Newt admonished, subconsciously placing a hand on his hip, cocking it out to the side slightly, as his other hand kept the suitcase open. “Credence is in a very volatile condition right now, and judging by the way he reacted to Diagon Alley just a bit ago, it would most surely be overwhelming for him to see all of you.”

Hearing the young man’s name, the niffler perked up, Dougal’s eyes flashed, and further into the suitcase, Newt heard the signature call of the Graphorn family. How odd…perhaps the creatures were stirring more than usual, because they sensed Credence’s presence and were curious about him. Or fearful of him…after all, none of his creatures ever dared to step foot into the frozen wasteland, located in the farthest reaches of Newt’s suitcase. 

Newt was just about to close his suitcase, when a slight whining sound was heard. Gently nudging Dougal aside, Newt’s eyebrows shot up at seeing Pickett giving him a pouty look from the top of the ladder.

“Pickett! How in Merlin’s beard did you manage to make it all the way here from your tree?” Pickett glanced at the demiguise, who was now carefully descending the ladder, before giving Newt a triumphant look. Rolling his eyes, Newt said, “Dougal, I’ve told you a hundred times, not to encourage him.”

In spite of his words, Newt gently allowed Pickett to climb into his hand, before placing him on his shoulder. Although he had tried to tell himself it was for the best, letting Pickett get back to his tree whilst Newt tended to Credence, he had indeed missed his small, constant companion. Now that they were on dry land and Credence’s powers had calmed down a bit, Newt figured it couldn’t hurt to at least allow Credence to know about Pickett, given the fact that Pickett was not necessarily a very intimidating little fellow.

Speaking of Credence, Newt heard curious splashing sounds from the restroom, before the pipes began gurgling as the water drained out of the tub. Going over to the door, Newt listened carefully for a moment, before saying, “Credence? Are you in need of any assistance?”

There was an ever so slight gasp, Newt’s loud voice having apparently surprised the boy, before Credence responded back with, “N-no sir…b-but…my…I mean…th-that is to say…”

Newt softly patted Pickett’s head, when the bowtruckle made a few questioning chirps. “Do you need your nightshirt?” Newt guessed.

There was a brief hesitation, before Credence admitted, “Y-yes, Mr. Scamander…” sounding strangely ashamed.

Newt nodded, returning to his closed suitcase. He flicked the dial, before opening it once more, removing the nightshirt and underpants Credence had been using to sleep in, before returning to the bathroom door. Newt hesitated, before closing his eyes and extending his hands. “I…my eyes are closed…”

Newt heard the door creak open hesitantly, before the clothing was removed from his hands. After the door shut once more, Newt quickly went over to the bed with his suitcase on it, sitting down heavily and staring at nothing in particular as he willed his blush to go away – he did not want Credence to think Newt’s own embarrassment meant something it didn’t, thus making the boy uncomfortable.

When the boy exited the bath, Newt briefly glanced at him, before his eyes widened, and he looked away, his blush returning in full force. Credence looked…different, with his hair still wet, not combed down into its normal fashion. The nightshirt, also…seemed to suit Credence rather well, it’s soft white fabric causing the boy’s skin to have more of a healthy look to it. Credence appeared to feel at least a bit better, as he walked to his bed quickly, sliding beneath the covers easily (though the young man’s embarrassment at being so exposed in front of another man might have played a factor in that).

Newt cleared his throat, as he avoided looking at Credence, setting his suitcase down beside his bed. He decided that he actually wanted a good night’s sleep, after the day he had, and sleeping in the suitcase (only to be constantly interrupted throughout the night) did not seem like a very good way to achieve that. With a wave of his wand, Newt (poorly) transfigured his own clothing into pajamas, sliding beneath the sheets, letting Pickett burrow into the crook of his neck as he usually did at night. Newt was about to Nox the lights, when Credence suddenly asked, “That thing…w-what is it?”

Ah, right. Credence had probably glimpsed Pickett when he had retrieved his night clothes. “His name is Pickett, and he is a bowtruckle. Harmless little fellows, so long as you don’t go for their home tree.”

Newt glanced sideways into the other bed, seeing the covers pulled up to Credence’s nose in a somewhat protective way. His eyes were wide, curious…perhaps a bit scared, but it was true that his eyes were mostly full of wonder, much like they had been in Diagon Alley, earlier that day. Perhaps, Newt did not give the young man enough credit.

“Is he…magical?”

“But of course,” Newt said with a smile, rubbing Pickett’s head, causing the bowtruckle to whine in protest, his rest having been interrupted. “That is my job, after all – to learn more about magical creatures, so as to help them to be less misunderstood. Less feared.”

Credence nodded, biting his lip. He seemed done talking for the night, so Newt waved his wand, spelling the lights out. However, after a few minutes of Newt shifting on the rickety metal bed, trying to find a comfortable position that would not crush Pickett, Credence spoke once more. “Do you…truly think I am magical?”

Newt blinked, shocked by the boy’s hesitance. “But of course, Credence. You couldn’t have an Obscurus without being so.”

Credence appeared to be processing this for a moment, before he said, “Am I…w-will I be one of those bad magic people you talked about? Will I be…a-am I evil?”

Newt closed his eyes. “Of course not, Credence,” Newt said, his voice soft, tender. “Of course not. It’s the choices you make that determine who you are. You have the ability to mold whether or not you become a dark wizard, a wizard of the light, neither, or something in between. No one is born innately evil…do you understand, Credence?”

“Y-yes, Mr. Scamander,” Credence replied back, his voice barely above a whisper. After a moment, he added, “Th-thank you…”

“No problem,” Newt said quietly, staring into the darkness. After several minutes, Credence’s breathing evened out, and Newt knew he was asleep. Glancing sideways at the younger man, a moonbeam had cast a beam of white light through the curtains onto Credence’s soft, thin face. Newt couldn’t help but wonder if he himself believed everything he had just said (however much he wished to). Visions of Credence drowning in dark magic, of him being called to the magic surrounding Knockturn Alley, danced through Newt’s head.

Perhaps Newt’s creatures weren’t the only misunderstood things. Perhaps other witches and wizards weren’t the only ones with a lack of understanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Newt was referencing a fear that Credence might have polio, as this was a common disease of the time period. 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! I finished writing it right after my Spanish final, as I was steadily getting drunker (I am very drunk as I am writing this ahah). But everything went well with my finals! I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! Thank you so much to everyone that commented on/bookmarked/subscribed to/left kudos for this story!!! You all mean the world to me! Please feel free to leave a comment if you so desire! <3


	7. Chapter 7

Newt saying that it had been a long day in Diagon Alley would be an understatement. Though Credence’s fever had eased a bit from the previous night, he was still rather weak, so the pair had to move slowly through the crowd as they accomplished the tasks on Newt’s list. Their already slow progression was made even slower by Newt’s anxiety about losing Credence – which was apparently a valid fear to have, considering how sidetracked the young man could become.

Newt tried to remain patient – after all, Credence was not all that familiar with the magical world, so it was natural for him to be drawn to the wonders and oddities that surrounded them. Regardless, Newt felt his irritation steadily rising throughout the day, each time the boy stumbled off in a different direction, his dark eyes widening with that ever-strange mixture of wonder and fear.

“Credence,” Newt sighed, for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “Come on, we have to get these errands done.” When Credence shuffled back to his side, head bowed as he whispered (yet another) quiet apology, Newt tried to smile at him in a convincing manner, so as to show he wasn’t mad.

Not that he wasn’t.

“Credence,” Newt said calmly, the tense smile remaining on his face, “I know this is all very new and interesting to you, and that you are not very used to magic…but wandering off like you’ve been could get you into a lot of trouble. As I warned you yesterday, there are some bad sorts of witches and wizards that hang around these parts. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Credence bowed his head even lower. “I’m s-sorry sir…i-it won’t happen again.”

Newt breathed deeply, before forcing his eyes to soften. “It’s alright. Besides, we only have a couple places left to go on our list, so we shouldn’t be here much longer. Come along.”

As they made their way through the bustling streets, Newt kept a close eye on his companion. It wasn’t even that Newt was necessarily mad at Credence – it was more than he was worried, and to have Credence constantly wandering off…well, it did not do wonders for Newt’s already frayed nerves. 

Half of Newt’s fears in regards to the young man had to do with the boy’s power and how drawn he appeared to be to the darker things in the magical world. Newt knew the boy had the potential to be a good person, that someday he would possess a will of his own to decide for himself who he would become. But right now, with his powers being as unstable as they were, Newt did not want Credence to be drawn to the dark side before he even had a chance to make a choice for himself.

The other half of Newt’s fears involving Credence revolved around how…fragile, the boy was. Physically, Credence was very thin, very sickly…he was in a rather weakened state, given his Obscurus issues and subsequent illness, and as such, would not be able to put up much (if any) of a fight if he were approached by someone wanting to cause him harm. Then there was the boy’s mental state…how submissive he was, how utterly terrified he was, how fearful and innocent…all of those things added together with his physical state made Credence an easy target to be manipulated and abused by some of the more powerful dark beings that roamed the wizarding world.

Again, Newt amended in his head, once again glancing at Credence. Somehow, Newt suspected that Credence’s going after Grindelwald as he was disguised as that Graves fellow…that Credence had somehow experienced firsthand how abusive and awful and manipulative the darkest wizard in the world could be. After all, Credence didn’t appear to be someone that could easily lose his cool, and with how violently the young man had gone after Grindelwald…

Newt bit his lip, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Before coming here…have you had any, ah, experiences involved with the wizarding world? In New York, perhaps?”

Credence stiffened, his hands beginning to quiver, but his voice came out as quiet and even as it did whenever he spoke. “I…w-well, n…n-not…I mean…”

Newt gave Credence an encouraging smile, as he said, “You don’t…have to talk about any of that, if you don’t want to. I was merely curious.”

Credence looked up slightly, his black eyes meeting Newt’s briefly, as they continued walking slowly through the streets. “W-well…m-my ma…I-I mean…Mary Lou…sh-she wasn’t…” Credence swallowed hard, burrowing his scarred hands into the pockets of the jacket Newt had provided him. “She wasn’t fond…of anything magical…”

“Ah,” Newt said softly. “I see.” He knew this of course, from what Tina had told him…but still, Newt did not want to frighten the boy by letting him know he knew things about Credence that he himself had not told Newt. The boy had been hurt enough in his life, and he didn’t need to feel those sort of feelings from Newt.

“I did…I mean…a couple months ago, a m-man started talking to me a-and he would…h-he would do magic sometimes. H-he told me…h-he…th-that he would t-teach me…b-but...b-but h-he…” Credence sniffled slightly, his entire body beginning to quiver.

Newt closed his eyes briefly, his suspicions about Grindelwald having been confirmed. Instead of pushing further, however, he quietly said, “It’s alright, Credence. You don’t have to talk about this sort of stuff if you aren’t comfortable with it, right now.”

Credence nodded gratefully, breathing deeply as he forced himself to calm down. Just in time, too, as they had finally reached their destination. 

Newt shrunk the bags of items they had already purchased throughout the day, sticking them in his pocket, before holding the door open for Credence. The young man entered the shop slowly, his eyes widening at how large it was on the inside, compared to the outside. 

Madam Malkin’s Robes for all Occasions was adorned floor to ceiling with reams of fabrics in all different colors and styles. Needles, spools of thread, scissors all floated about mindlessly, working seemingly of their own volition to make elegant robes.

Newt stepped in, smiling at the awed look on Credence’s face, before letting the door swing shut, bells ringing throughout the shop. Almost immediately a woman’s voice called from the back, “Just a moment, please!”

Credence lowered his head as a squat young woman (with a rather sour expression painted on her face) entered the room wearing garish pink and purple robes, a measuring tape settled around her shoulders. As soon as she saw them standing in the doorway, however, her expression transformed into pure delight.

“Why, if it isn’t Newton Artemis Fido Scamander!” Madam Malkin exclaimed, beaming. She came over and wrapped her arms around the much taller man in a brief hug, ignoring the way he shifted uncomfortably. When she pulled back, she clicked her tongue, looking him up and down. “My my, you are still wearing that old thing? Honestly Newton, you should just throw that thing out, get something fresh and new-“

Newt pulled back, avoiding looking her in the eyes. “I like this coat. It’s fine.”

Finally seeing how uncomfortable he was, Madam Malkin sighed, muttering, “Ah, fine, have it your way. Well, if you did not come in for a new coat…what can I help you with for today? A new pair of dress robes, perhaps?”

“Not today,” Newt said, gesturing to Credence, who Madam Malkin just appeared to be noticing. “My companion is in need of several pairs of robes, as well as some Muggle clothing in his size. He has been wearing some of my things but…he is rather thin, and nothing fits him quite right.”

Madam Malkin eyed Credence up and down, causing the young man to shift self-consciously, chewing on his lip. “I see…” she said eventually. “Well…hop on that stand over there by the mirrors and let’s get you measured, shall we?”

Credence moved slowly to the stool, swaying when he stood atop it. He jumped when the coat he had been wearing was magically jerked off his shoulders, leaving him in only Newt’s baggy sweatshirt and pants. The boy even let out a quiet yelp when Madam Malkin’s measuring tape flew through the air, wrapping around him as it quickly measured him, a floating quill and parchment marking down the results.

Newt bit his lip, wanting to provide the boy some comfort, but Madam Malkin interrupted him, “Has your demiguise gone through it’s spring shedding yet?”

“No, not yet,” Newt answered absentmindedly, his eyes not leaving Credence. “He won’t shed for a few months now.”

“When he does,” Madam Malkin continued, not noticing Newt’s disinterest, “I would be very interested in buying his shed fur. I haven’t been able to make any invisibility cloaks for months, as most of the suppliers around here I fear are less…humane in obtaining the fur than I know you are. And although ANY cloak turns over a fair profit, I would not feel…right, selling something that has caused the spillage of blood of an innocent creature.”

Newt finally looked at her, his eyes sad. “I thank you for that…it is unfortunate that there are still so many poachers today. It honestly…makes me sick!”

“But your book, that one you’ve been working on…it will change things, you think?”

Newt briefly glanced over at Credence surprised to see the young man giving him a curious look, before he bowed his head once more. “Yes…I hope so.”

Madam Malkin nodded, before the parchment with Credence’s measurements flew into her hand. “Blimey, child, you are as thin as a whip, you are!”

Credence flinched slightly, shifting nervously. However, he was saved from responding by Newt saying, “Right, so…”

Madam Malkin took the hint, not commenting further as she waved her wand through the air. Several reams of fabric floated down from the walls, levitating in a circle around the three of them. The fabrics were all in a variety of different colors from plain black to vivid patterns, made from a variety of different materials. Newt saw a few of the more common fabrics, such as cotton and velvet, though he also saw metallic golden fabric that were obviously the product of dragon scales, as well as sheer glittery fabric, that had most likely been handspun from unicorn hair.

Credence’s eyes widened as the fabrics came to a stop, and Madam Malkin eyed him expectantly. However, after a few awkward moments of silence, she finally sighed, prompting Credence with a questioning, “Well?”

Credence turned to her with wide eyes, his entire body shuddering under her gaze, as he spoke hesitantly, “W-well what, ma’am?”

Madam Malkin’s eyebrows shot up. “What fabrics do you want your robes to be made out of?”

Credence blinked slowly, his eyebrows furrowing. His eyes darted around the room slowly, looking at each ream of fabric critically – in spite of this, his face was pained, full of worry when he looked back at Newt and Madam Malkin. “I…I don’t…I mean…”

Madam Malkin ignored his stuttering, saying, “Is there any color in particular you like? If we can narrow the selections down to a few colors, we can move onto selecting the fabrics, and once se select the fabrics, we can work on deciding what style of robes you want…you know, the cut, the length, what type of sleeves you want, that sort of thing.” When Credence merely gave her a hopeless look, Madam Malkin sighed, waving her wand again. The fabrics rearranged themselves by color, transforming into a swirling rainbow before their movements halted. “Do you at least know how many sets of robes you want? Or for what occasion you are needing robes? And in regards to muggle clothes, what are you wanting? Dress clothes, something casual, sleepwear-“

“I don’t know!” Credence exclaimed, his voice going up in volume slightly. His eyes were watering and his teeth had violently sunk themselves into his bottom lip. His breaths were coming quicker, darting in and out of his lungs much too fast. Dark splotches were beginning to appear in his vision…when it happened – his panic attack froze before it could become something more, the aching feeling in his chest and head drawing back into nothingness, replaced instead by a sense of calm that was all-encompassing for the young man. His breaths slowed and his vision steadily cleared to find Newt standing right in front of him, his hands placed gently but firmly on Credence’s shoulders. 

For a moment, they remained like that, simply staring at each other as the swirling storm of magic inside of Credence relaxed, drawing back into him. When Credence finally felt like his body wasn’t being torn apart from the inside, he became all-too aware of the heaviness of Newt’s hands resting there on his shoulders…warm, callused skin just barely making contact with the skin above the neckline of his sweater.

Without meaning to, Credence felt himself leaning into that warm grasp, feeling something both warm and refreshing beginning to spread throughout his body. However, as soon as that feeling had arrived, it was gone as Newt stepped away, eyes purposely looking anywhere else but at Credence.

Credence tried not to feel hurt by that.

Newt suddenly turned to face Madam Malkin. “I think one set of velvet dress robes should suffice, with three sets of regular cotton robes. A robed coat, thigh-length, preferably wool should do nicely, and perhaps a hat and a pair of gloves to match. A pair of work-robes is also in order, basic style with some sort of easy-to-clean fabric. Muggle-clothing wise, he is in need of at least 8 pairs of trousers, 3 regular shirts, and a couple cotton undershirts…ah, some wool sweaters…socks, wool as well…ah…and some…well, some u-undergarments…ah…” Newt fiddled nervously with the sleeve of his coat, but Madam Malkin gave him a sympathetic look.

“Any colors in particular for any of those things?” she asked gently.

Newt looked at Credence to see if he had any preference, but the boy had lowered his head submissively once more, his shoulders raised and rounded defensively. “Ah…no, I suppose not. Perhaps try for a bit of a variety?”

Madam Malkin nodded, looking at the parchment her charmed quill was scribbling on. Newt turned from her once more to look at Credence, trying to ignore the thought of how strangely wonderful it felt to touch Credence’s cool skin, however so briefly. 

Newt swallowed hard, not able to keep his thoughts down as he spoke, “Ah…actually, on the dress robes…I think they should be dark blue, something like indigo…don’t you?” 

Madam Malkin hid a smirk, before saying, “You read my mind.”

As Madam Malkin got to work, her supplies flying about in what appeared to be a very disordered fashion, humming under her breath, Newt approached Credence as he had before. This time, however, he didn’t touch him, unsure about the sparking feeling under his skin that he got when he had touched the boy a moment ago. “Credence,” Newt asked quietly, his voice low. “Are you alright?”

Credence glanced up at him briefly, his eyes meeting Newt’s for only a moment, before he looked away. “Y-yes, Mr. Scamander.”

Newt felt his heart twist, oddly. His earlier frustration at Credence appeared to melt away as he said, “I know this is overwhelming for you…all these choices and such, in a world you are not all that familiar with. I’m sorry that you’ve been thrust into all of this in such an…abrupt way. It’s honestly a shame that you are just now getting introduced to this world. You…” Newt swallowed hard, fidgeting nervously. He had almost just said something that would have been a mite too personal, for the limited contact he and Credence had had in the short time they had known each other. Something that would have no doubt opened up some wounds of Credence’s that were not yet healed to an acceptable state. He did not want that. Instead, Newt simply said, “You…will do great in the wizarding world, once you get used to things, yeah?”

Credence sniffled, causing Newt to stiffen. But the boy simply said, “Th-thank you Mr. Scamander…r-really.”

Before Newt could reply, Madam Malkin flittered over to them, asking, “So, how will you be paying for these, Newton?”

Newt waved his hand, almost grateful for the change in conversation. “You can just charge it directly to my Gringotts account. It’s the new year, so my small bit of inheritance Mr. Scamander kindly decided to leave to me in his will should have drifted in about now, so I should have plenty to cover the cost.” Newt rolled his eyes, but his half-joking manner was interrupted by a choking sound coming from Credence.

Both Madam Malkin and Newt turned to look at the young man, and were shocked to see him staring intensely at Newt, his dark eyes too shiny. “M-Mr. Scamander…” he whispered out, his voice quivering as violently as his hands. “Y-you…y-you’ve already done s-so much…I…I don’t…I a-am fine with the clothes I have…a-and…I…I don’t need…I…”

Newt shook his head, quickly saying, “Nonsense. You are a wizard, are you not? You should be dressed proper!”

Credence looked physically pained as he stuttered out, “I…I just…I-I can’t afford…M-Mr. Scamander sir, y-you…you’ve been so kind, a-and…and…I…b-but…”

“No ‘buts” Credence,” Newt said firmly, though he felt a bit like he was falling apart on the inside. “I want to do this for you. You…you deserve this, okay? This and so much more. Just…l-let me do this for you.”

Credence’s face suddenly crumpled, a sob working its way up through his chest until he choked on it, tears sliding down his pale cheeks. Newt immediately panicked, his hands coming up, hovering questioningly near Credence in case he decided to collapse suddenly. However, Credence simply stood there, sobbing, his entire body shaking from the force of those cries. He surprised Newt, however, by suddenly saying, “Th-th-thank you, Mr. S-Scamander…th-thank you s-so, so m-much…”

Newt swallowed hard, looking away. His eyes met Madam Malkin’s, who was giving him a very odd, quite confused look.

Nothing could ever be easy, could it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the super late update! My mental health has been hitting rock bottom lately, and this chapter just seemed to drag on and on (there was even a scene I had planned for this chapter, but didn't get to because this became too long. Don't worry, it will be in the next chapter, though)! Thank you so much for all of your kind support, in leaving loving comments and kudos!! I cherish them all, and kind comments always give me the motivation to write! So thank you!! 
> 
> A quick sidenote, as something that I feel needs addressed - please do not leave comments sexualizing Credence, or Newt and Credence's relationship at this time. This fanfic is not focused on sex - it is focused on Credence's healing, as well as the development of Credence's and Newt's relationship. I absolutely loath fanfics that use the "magical healing dick" storyline, as it is really overdone and is extremely offensive to people that are mentally ill (such as myself) - and it is lazy writing. I will tell you right now that Credence and Newt do have sex...but that doesn't happen until chapter 51. So if you are here just for that, I'd say you should leave right now. To reiterate - leaving comments asking "who is going to top and who is going to bottom" and "when are they going to DO IT uwu" will not be treated with respect - this fanfic is not about sex, and if you think it is, then you are simply fetishizing queer relationships, and that is something I will not tolerate. Thank you for understanding.


End file.
